Tag Archives: this sucks

Eternity and no time at all

It’s been 2 weeks since Chow died… yesterday would have been her 7th birthday.

It feels like she’s been gone forever, and like it was just yesterday. 

Ordered new name tags for the other two yesterday because Shutterfly had a promo going. Both L and I felt like we should be picking one for Chow also…

It’s so weird without her here. 

My anxiety is hitting hard again, especially days when I work at the front desk at the kennel. It feels really wrong without her there with me. I bring the other two, but they get noisy and need to be sent back into the kennel when that happens… Cow would just sit quietly with me and I didn’t have to worry that she would disrupt things. 

The other two dogs are also experiencing a lot more anxiety. They don’t want to be left alone anywhere. They used to tolerate being home alone for a few hours, but now the little guy barks himself hoarse. Sadie doesn’t like us sleeping in past 6:30 am anymore. If we are in the bedroom too long, she yells for us to wake up. She also panics a lot after we get home. She still sometimes goes outside looking for hints of Chow in all the spots she used to frequent… neither tolerates that half-hour alone in the camp room at work between the time we get there and the time camp actually starts…

I still expect chow to knock me in the head with the bathroom door if I don’t close it all the way. Both L and I look for her to pick up dropped food in the kitchen… 

It really sucks…

Ashes- mixed media panel

It didn’t start out specifically as something related to the loss of Chow, but it ended up that way…

I was just messing around with art supplies in an attempt to get myself unstuck from the grief. 

There were also 2 pages in my journal I played around with, but they are not finished yet. So far, they are just backgrounds: 

I  was experimenting with a rust texture set I dug out of the clearance section last week. This tag was the first thing I used the stuff on. I think it came out ok (much better than when I tried it on the blue page)… It will go on the blue page eventually. I can’t decide where to put it though. I really like how it pops when it’s in the bottom left corner, but I also really like the detail of that spot. I’ve been trying to make it work in other spots, but it seems to get lost in the chaos of the background anywhere else I try to put it. I might have to deal with covering up what’s easily my favorite area on the page. The other option would be to alter the tag or background in a way that allows the tag to be distinguished from the background. It may take me a while to figure that out…

Impossible things (a letter to no one) 

Sometimes I wish I could materialize you here in my living room, where I’m comfortable and engaged in art. It’s easier to talk sometimes when I’m distracted by the flow, but still connected to the inside. 

Sometimes it’s hard to fit all the talking into that hour. Sometimes it would be easier if we could just do art together and I could talk when things popped into my head; when they felt ready and comfortable to come up. 

It’s safe here alone with just the dogs and my art. Sometimes I wish I could start that way, but bring you in to talk to when I was able. Sometimes I wish you were here without me knowing, so I could get past that censor and shame, and maybe you could help me with the stuff that’s too raw to bring up out loud and in your presence. 

I could get lost in my art and music, and you could watch without me knowing. Then, you could blink in when I wanted to talk… it would be safe and non-threatening. I could communicate the things I’m too scared and ashamed to tell you about. 

And while we are on the topic of impossible powers, maybe it would be good if you could read my mind and tell me for sure if I’m making this all up. You could point out the lies and show me where I’m exaggerating. You could look at the stuff that’s all a jumble and help me understand it. You could take an outsider’s perspective without the emotion, and you could tell me I really am making it all up just because I need to feel worth your time and attention. I want attention… (and even as I think that, I can feel hands on my body and between my legs. It’s creepy. I don’t want attention. I don’t want to be special or pretty or paid attention to. I want to melt into the fibers of the carpet and hide away from everything. I want to disappear).  

Dissociation frustrations

Talked to Dr C about dissociation today, though I was pretty dissociated when we talked, so I don’t remember much about it. 

I mentioned disliking this state of half-knowing. I’d rather forget completely, without any of the side effects of merely dissociating things, but that’s not totally accurate. I’d probably lose part of myself if I totally wiped the memories… but remembering is overwhelming. It’s painful and distressing. I don’t know how to make it feel safe. 

I guess Wednesday we will talk about something related to all this, but I can’t remember what she mentioned. 

I’m so tired of this struggle. 

It’s futile

Every once in a while, I get up the nerve to try to explain why someone’s comments in support of trump are hurtful to others; that what the man stands for and how he behaves are abusive… and every time I come up against people telling me how wrong Hillary is. I didn’t bring her into the conversation, but that’s their only defense. 

I’m back to feeling like I did growing up; that there’s no escape because no one believes there’s a problem. 

I know a huge chunk of the country (and the world) is seriously disturbed by the election results, but it feels like our cries are falling on deaf ears… it’s futile to argue or try to change things…

financial ramblings…

I get that my financial issues are my own doing. I know I should have made better decisions and been more responsible, but right now the impact of my poor choices is hitting really hard.

We need a new car (if not 2, since the truck is still having engine issues). We have no savings and terrible credit (though L’s is much better than my own). That leaves us with VERY few choices by way of getting another car. The problem with that is that I need a reliable car to get to and from work, and to and from therapy appointments. Even if I were to quit my current job and try to find something closer, I’d still need to be able to get to Dr C. There really isn’t any affordable public transportation option in this area that would take me from home to her office. I’m NOT open to finding another therapist closer to me. It’s been a challenge to find someone I can work with, and someone who knows what they are doing around trauma. The only other female trauma therapist that has experience, space, and can work with me for more than a few months is actually further away than Dr. C and doesn’t take Medicare… Also, I like and trust Dr. C. I’m not switching…

So now we have to figure out how to get a reliable car that will run for more than a few thousand miles, AND be something we can actually acquire. I wish I hadn’t been so irresponsible with money. I wish I knew how to save (and had a way to make enough money monthly to allow us to save). I wish I had either the funds or the credit to just buy a car without having to worry that it will need major repairs in a few months. We have enough of that with our current cars…

I went looking into how to maybe get a car donated, or find a company that will help us get financing for a reliable car. Unfortunately, we don’t meet any of the criteria (and the waiting lists are several years long!). Family doesn’t have the means to help us out, and even if my family did, the strings attached to a car from my father are way more psychologically costly than not having a car at all…

I dunno… I’m trying not to feel totally hopeless about all this, but it’s really hard…

Hell is…


Went to a figure drawing thing at a local gallery tonight. The model was supposed to be a woman, but she was unable to make it at the last minute. One of the guys that had come to draw offered to model…


I made it through the first 30 minute pose, but just barely. I focused on the light and the dark trying to draw the model. It was the only reason I was able to do it at all…

At the end of the first pose, I packed up my stuff and left. Tears started forming in my eyes as I walked out… sometime during the first pose, I had text Dr C about it. I was looking for permission to leave. She hadn’t responded at the point that I left, but I had no faith in being able to remain “together” for the other 4 poses. I lucked out with the first one – he had his back to me and I couldn’t see too much. I wasn’t about to push my luck with the other poses.

I fought tears the whole drive home. I couldn’t get the image of the model out of my head, but it wasn’t really the model… I cried harder when the body in my mind’s eye changed…

Dr C finally responded as I was pulling off my exit from the highway… “No, you need to know that you’re free to leave any room with an exposed penis in it.” (I had asked if it was a failure to leave after the first pose)…

L asked why I was home so early (the text that I was leaving early didn’t get to her). I clarified my initial text about the model not being able to make it. She asked if I was ok, and she saw through my fake answer… I wish I could explain what happened internally, but there are no words…

I poured myself a triple glass of whiskey. It’s helped to stifle my triggered reactions and the impulse to shred myself… idgaf that it’s not the greatest coping skill in the world, but I’m not bleeding, so whatever.

Can’t ground today

Normally, work helps me ground. Hanging around with a bunch of dogs is a lot like hanging around with a bunch of kids: you have to be present or they get into trouble. Unfortunately, no amount of hanging around and trying to be present with them is helping the body memories.

I didn’t sleep well at all last night. I’m sure that’s not helping either.

Last night, I told L some of the stuff behind the body memories. She says some of my relationship and sexual issues makes more sense now… it’s weird, because when I was telling her, it felt real. This morning it feels like stuff I’m making up in an attempt to excuse my choices.

Yesterday Dr C asked what else I’d be losing by choosing to believe the memories and the stories I’ve ascribed to them… she’s suggested I’d have to give up the identity of being a drama queen. It’s not exactly an identity I like, but it’s somehow easier to deal with than having to come to terms with my life being much different than I remember… give me psychosis, histrionics, and mental defect over sexual abuse any day. At least that way I don’t have to be mad at anyone but myself. I don’t have to understand my life different than I do now. I can continue to hate myself (it’s so much safer).

I’m so tired of dealing with all this. I’m tired of the memories and the body sensations and fear. I just want to be done with it all…

I get to leave early today because we don’t have enough dogs for me to stay. I’m kinda glad. I’ll get to maybe nap (since I think I got a total of 3 hours of sleep last night in 10-minute increments)… I also see Dr C again tonight. It seemed like a good idea last night. Hopefully it’s still a good idea. There’s a lot going on at the moment. I can’t afford to crash land back onto the psych unit (I just hope I don’t wear her out on me).

depression and frustration

Woke up wanting to cry… that spot I was hoping to avoid is exactly where it feels like I’m headed. I’m resisting the desire to call out of work for today. I’m torn between thinking it would be good distraction, and fearing I will be too mired in my own shit to be competent at the job. Maybe if I we’re just in the back with the dogs, it wouldn’t matter, but I’m up front running the customer service today. It’s lonely up there, and there’s too much opportunity to think and feel…

I want to cut. I want to escape this overwhelmingly uncomfortable feeling of worthlessness and hopelessness. Calling out today would put another notch in the “worthless & hopeless” column, but so would going in and fucking up with the customers… I feel like I can’t win.

The house is a mess. No matter how much I try to organize and clean, the entropy of the mess dictates that it will remain. A surface gets emptied only to be re-cluttered later on the day. I put things away so they are not talking up the little space we have, then they are too out-of-reach for L. I can’t win… I don’t want to keep doing this anymore. I’m so tired of trying, only to have it return to its original state…

I just want to sleep (and maybe cry more).

This wasn’t a good time to stir up all this. It was threatening to break, but I kinda had it under wraps. It might have held out till next week or the week after. I might have made it through the end of December without falling apart. Fuck… I Fuck up everything I try. *This* is why I’m scared of trying a real career again. I can’t hang on for more than 6 months without a breakdown…

don’t know how to allow myself to feel

I was talking to L today for our usual daily chat (coz what else are you going to do when you’ve been 1500 miles apart for the past year and some weeks?), and I managed to get out (without my voice catching, and without having to go silent) that I was trying to come to terms with having to find one of the cats a new home… The words came, then the emotion hit, and that was all I could say about it without tears welling up in my eyes… even just writing it here they are threatening to burst forth, but I’m frantically blinking them away.

We also mentioned that Monday will be my last session with TM. More tears sprung to my eyes, but behaved themselves…

I don’t know how to allow myself to feel this. It’s too heavy and too scary. I still can’t think of leaving mom here by herself without the tears escaping from the confines of my eyes… So I stop the thoughts or the conversations. I switch the topic quickly and efficiently. And I still don’t release any of it. It’s safer to feel bad about losing TM because the level of emotional investment in her is not as great as it is with everything and everyone else. I care about her, she’s safe, I will miss her a lot, but it’s nowhere near the level of overwhelming hurt that comes with everything else.

It all feels like K & T dying again. It’s that huge. It hurts that much (only maybe more, because it’s them being gone, and worry over mom and the dog and cats and house and future and everything…). The safety net that was supposed to always be there is again going away. I feel like that poor bee I tried to rescue from drowning in the ocean several weeks ago. It was so windy & choppy, every time I fished him out, the wind caught him and threw him back into the water. Eventually the waves carried him away and I am assuming he perished… I feel like that little bee after I had fished him out a second time, and before the wind whipped him away again. There’s a sense of relief in knowing I’m getting out of the waves, but I also know it’s pretty windy. I’m holding my breath for the last time I get knocked in and the waves finally take me away from all hope of getting out of the water. I’m afraid it’s going to happen like that. I’m afraid something will finally knock me so far that all the means of finding safety are too far to get to.

I don’t know how to be ok feeling this emotion. Maybe if I felt support around it; maybe if there was a cushion of safety in attempting to deal with the emotion, I might be ok trying it in bits… but there’s no cushion. I will have 2 weeks after my last session with TM to keep it together and keep moving. There won’t be that neutral party to bring me back to a level-head. So I have to maintain it for myself. The only way I know how to do it and still function is to stuff it all away.

So I stuff. I fight the tears and the sadness and the fear. I fight the panic… I’m not sure how well I will manage that on the last drive out of the driveway, but at least I won’t be the one behind the wheel.

This sucks.

Dear TM…

Dear TM,

Now you are seeing the hopeless mess that I can become. I don’t like that you will remember me this way. I don’t like that we are ending on this note. I’d prefer you to think of me as someone who can figure shit out and make it in life (coz someone needs to believe that about me. I certainly don’t)…

I’ve put up walls b/c I need you to be a stranger right now. I need to be able to leave without feeling completely crushed about all the losses. It’s not just you I have walls up around. It’s the house, and the state, and mom, and the dog and cats, and art time with my friend, & everything… I’m only going to allow myself to miss the beach. That is all. Everything else is too raw and too painful.

I still want to ask if it would be ok if I called you once I’m settled again… I was going to ask if I could call you on the anniversary day, but it will end up being the day we leave. I will need to concentrate on driving and hanging with the wife… I hope she knows she will have to do the first leg of the journey, the one that gets us out of the driveway and away from this neighborhood. I’m not sure how to say goodbye to all this…

Maybe the IOP will work out? I’m not getting my hopes up, because I don’t have faith in them billing for copays, but at least I can go to the intake without having to pay anything that day. Then we can go from there. The little kid in me wants to keep seeing you as much as I can before I go, but the other part of me sees the heaviness of the depression and knows I would be better off with more support…

I really have no idea what I’m doing, but I know I will come out the other side. I always do.

Please don’t actually hate me, just maybe let me think you do for the moment.



That mythical move is actually set to happen

We found a place that will take all of our dogs. The move that was supposed to happen over a year ago is finally happening. As excited as I am to be back with my wife, the reality of the circumstances around the move are hitting hard.

Now comes crunch time. I have to pare down a lifetime of things to fit into 850sqft… and it will take our things 2 weeks to arrive. That means I have to figure out what we absolutely can’t live without for 2 weeks. That also means I have to get L to invest in some larger Tupperware up north because the critter homes will be in transit a lot longer than it will take us all to drive up… this should be “fun”, lol.

I’m still trying to figure out what to write to TM as my goodbye. I’ve not had this much trouble with expressing “thank you & goodbye” in a long time… I’ve started 4 times, and I’ve trashed each one. I’m supposed to have it for tomorrow. Dunno if that’s going to happen. Maybe by next week (our last session), I will have it down.

So… yeah.

Getting referred out because TM can’t provide the added support I need right now. Can’t keep seeing her because it would be a “duplication of services”…

I know I need it. I know I was probably going to bring it up again if she hadn’t, but I didn’t want to have to say goodbye quite yet. We only had 4 more sessions left (or maybe now it would have been 3?)…

It still sucks.

Not quite sure how to process all this. As long as I was still able to make it just seeing her weekly, I could talk myself out of my own hopelessness a bit. Now? I can’t turn off the tape that says she believes I’m as hopeless as I think I am. I can’t pull away from thinking that things will never get better because I always pathetically fall back to this.

I used to be functional. I used to have a life and a career and some friends… it all feels fake and so far away. The move that is supposed to happen at the end of next month feels impossible. There’s nothing that works to make any of this better.

It’s too much effort, so I melt into this really pathetic, useless, fucked-up up puddle.


This move is so anxiety-inducing… and then the decision around whether or not the anxiety and depression warrant a check-in call to TM today is anxiety-inducing. I think I will ask that it’s either scheduled, or that there isn’t a call expected, but that it be decided before I leave session either way. I’m leaning towards “I’ll call and leave you a message if I need to” but not set a day and time for a check-in call that may or may not happen. Having to make that decision (even though she said either choice would be ok) is worse than having to make a decision to simply leave her a message. I keep landing on the side of “this isn’t important enough to warrant a check-in”. It feels like a check-in would only be ok if it was something hugely impossible to get through (kinda like last week). This week is difficult, but not as bad as last week…

The depression is still really bad, but it’s manageable at the moment. Going out for a bit yesterday helped (so did that nap). The flashbacks are once again just “background noise” in my body. Though I would love to get them to stop completely, as well as this newer pain that comes with them, I don’t think it’s enough to bug her today… I can still change my mind for the next 2.5 hours, but at this point, I’m settling on “not gonna be annoying and needy”.

On another note, I don’t know why I thought that the happy memories timeline would be emotionally easier than the aversive memories one. There’s no real emotion attached to the happy memories, but they trigger more aversive memories that are connected to them in one way or another. Those negative memories definitely come with some serious emotions. :/

I keep telling myself I need to handle all this differently. I need to not be so triggered by it. I need to be able to deal with it without contacting TM. And then I cycle around to wondering what use trying to deal with all this is with only a few sessions left. I want to hide and put up walls and push TM away (or, push myself away). I don’t want to feel a need to talk to her about anything. I don’t want to find myself looking to her for support. I don’t want to feel like she is a safe person. I don’t want to trust her. I want to be able to walk away without looking back. I’m trying to prepare for this loss that will be huge when it shouldn’t be… Attachment and trust and safety are sticky and messy things for me. I’m not sure how to navigate them as easily as I should. It plants a lump squarely in my throat, and a huge weight into my chest.

The other day I had a lightbulb moment around why I cling so desperately to anyone I care about right before an immanent ending. I’m not really sure why didn’t realize this sooner. I was journaling when it suddenly jumped out of the screen at me: I pulled away from my aunt before she died. I didn’t spend much time with her in that last year she was sick. It was hard. She was cranky and mean from the chemo. I didn’t want to be around that, so I stopped going to see her. I stopped spending time with her. She was one of my favorite people, and I abandoned her because I couldn’t handle her being sick. Then one day, my parents tell me I should go see her because “she doesn’t have much time left”… I think I might have seen her 2 or 3 more times before she lost consciousness in her final week. Then the hospice nurse told us she was likely going to pass that night. Her body was giving up, it was out of fight. She was out of fight. So we spent several hours with her. We would talk to her, and hold her hand. And then it got late, so my mom, brother, and I left. She died later that night…

I felt cheated. And I was angry at myself for not having been there for her. I was mad that I had let my fear and anxiety win to push me away from “my other mother”… I think because of that regret, my reflex is to cling desperately to any relationship right before it’s over. Be it romantic or therapeutic, if I know it’s ending, I become annoying and needy and ever-present… I’m trying not to do that with TM. The only alternate though seems to be building huge walls and lots of distance. It’s another thing I can’t find a middle-ground with. I don’t know how to take an impending loss and not feel giant emotions around it. It was easy to recognize in the termination timing with De, but it’s been harder to put together when it wasn’t so obviously entangled. With De, termination came 6 days before the anniversary of K’s death. I would trip up and use K’s name with her. It was painfully obvious much of the gravity of emotion came from the first loss (and from the coinciding anniversary of my first suicide attempt, thought that came 13 years after K’s death)… Other losses have felt as huge, but never were that easy to put together. I’m not sure what prompted me connecting the dots with the impending loss of TM, but it finally clicked. I am well aware that most of the emotions going on right now are transference. Yes, I will miss TM. It was a good fit for the most part. I know though, that most of my issues with loss go further back… I know losing people I trust and feel safe with just picks at an old wound that never truly healed. 😦

Waking up on edge

I woke this morning wanting to scream and cry and break things… I have no idea why. I don’t remember any nightmares or scary dreams. I can’t think of any good reason I should be this cranky and upset, yet I want to destroy myself. :/

I hate when days start out like this. What prompted it? Why are the tiniest things setting off a huge emotional reaction in my head?

I’m back to thinking if I could just smash my body, I wouldn’t have to feel this anymore… only, I’m not consciously feeling anything. That’s normally a though that goes along with overt and intense flashbacks. I can’t recognize any today.

This is very frustrating. Apologies in advance if I can’t keep this in check when interacting with anyone online and in real life… I don’t mean to be an ass. Sorry…

Took a nap, and realized I’m having flashbacks in my sleep. I remembered it and felt it the first few seconds after waking up, now it’s just the aftereffects of them without too clear an idea of what was going on in it… :/ at least I know why I was reacting as if I’d been dealing with them.

Are they worse in dreams for anyone else?

they are trying to make your head explode…

**WARNING: Whiney Rant**

So, I went looking into my Medicare options, as I become eligible in May… I swear, they are trying to make your head explode with it all so they don’t ever actually have to cover you.

To keep my prefered providers (ones I feel safe and comfortable with, and ones I am not willing to change), I have to pay an additional $200 on top of what they already take out… and then I have to pay $50-75 in copays per visit. If I could afford the $500/month for private-pay therapy, I would be doing it and not wasting the additional money on extra insurance… oh, and they don’t pay much for any meds or emergencies or preventative care… and if I want vision and dental, I have to pay MORE… But it’s a “Premium” plan (meaning I get to pay them a ton of money for the privilege of paying them more money when I go see my Dr. It doesn’t give me better coverage, they just want me to believe I’m getting a better deal while giving them half of my monthly income. The deductible is 10k?! seriously?? That leaves me what, 2k for the year? Thanks).

The providers I want to keep are covered by the insurance plans from “regular” insurance with these companies, but they are not covered by the Medicare versions from the same companies… Oh, and I need referrals for all mental health treatment to make sure it’s “medically necessary” though I am on disability for mental health reasons…

If I don’t sign up for one of these plans, I get a penalty (no additional drug coverage) and still have to get Part B. If I sign up for a plan, I have to pay through the nose for services I need and theoretically should be able to access because it’s for treatment related to my disability. And despite having found someone competent that I could actually possibly see for more than 4 months, I can’t access them as a provider because Medicare doesn’t like to give you freedom of choice. When provider comfort is imperative for effective treatment, not allowing choice without huge financial burden is just irresponsible.

Can I cry now?

a love/hate relationship with therapy

(sorry this is not a very cohesive post. I’m rambling a lot…)

I hate the therapeutic relationship… I love the benefits of therapy, but the nature of the relationship makes it hell and like a bad break-up when it’s over. I mean, when else do we risk/tolerate getting incredibly emotionally intimate with someone who doesn’t open up in the same way? All the while knowing full well that they never will, and that the relationship will end with a near-complete severance? While many people are able to find one good therapist and work through their issues with that one person and feel natural with the break in the relationship, many people will bounce from clinician to clinician. Trust will need to be built with each new person, and will likely break before things are resolved in the person’s life. For me, it comes as a bi-product of having limited finances which necessitates seeing students or seeking community resources. This pretty much guarantees me a break in the relationship within several weeks at worst, and several months at best. Having been on both sides of the therapeutic relationship, I am acutely aware that a change in the relationship after termination is unlikely to go well. It’s not to say that becoming friends is impossible after (I am still friends with my h.s. guidance counselor), but chances are it will not work out nicely (it took us quite a while to settle into our routine, and even now it’s more of a mentor/mentee relationship than a truly reciprocal friendship). In therapy, we (as clients) are somewhat lulled into the one-sidedness of the whole thing. We “take” and “take” without ever having to “give”. We have a relatively neutral picture of the clinician, and we are expecting a lack of moral judgement around anything we bring up in therapy. We expect (and pay for) an ally who will at least “have our backs”, if not be totally in agreement with us. We pay them to have our best interests in mind when interacting with and reacting to us. We pay for “professionalism” in situations they may otherwise be wholly opposed to when outside of the office environment…

“Unconditional positive regard” is something we will likely only ever find in therapy. It’s a wonderful feeling. It’s warm & fuzzy. It’s nurturing… and it’s contrived. Not to say it’s not genuine, because in that environment it is. When training and working with clients, I was acutely aware of the factors motivating behavior, even if it would be considered “deviant” or “immoral”. I would not judge my clients, but try to help them resolve the turmoil in their lives. Every demon has it’s reasons… This has somewhat spilled over into my personal life, but I still have a very visceral response to things in my personal life where I would genuinely not react in the same way in a professional role… It’s not hypocrisy as much as it is a different mind-set. When working with a client, I try to look at their past experiences and how those have shaped everything they do or experience in the moment. I can work with a sexual offender without judgement. I can work with a domestic violence offender without judgement. I can hold their truths without harshness or anger. In my personal life, I can look at the past, understand it and how it shapes the person, and still hold anger and judgement around their behaviors (though, I generally dislike the concept of judging anyone except myself and a very few select people. Judgement about actions and behaviors comes easier). In my personal life, my own emotions and thoughts on things get in the way. I react out of anger or hurt or sadness or judgement when I would not do so in my professional life… I mean, where outside of therapy can you be guaranteed (I use that word loosely as there are some very judgemental and/or unprofessional therapists out there) a genuine acceptance of all the “crud”?

But I digress. I hate the emotional experience of therapy. It’s like asking you to strip naked (while the other remains totally clothed), jump around in thorn bushes for a while, then leave (often times, still naked and now sore and raw). It’s totally shitty for someone who feels emotions so strongly on top of everything. I admire (and am envious of) those people who can walk into therapy and walk out relatively unscathed. It takes me ages to trust anyone, let alone feel any attachment. It’s risky and scary and I dislike doing it. I prefer to keep everyone at arm’s length because it lessens the inevitable roller-coaster. Once I get attached though, I cling for dear life. You could run me over, smiling and laughing maniacally as you do it, and I would come back giving you chance after chance to apologize or change the behavior. It’s not so much a sense of masochism as it is a disbelief that I could have misjudged someone so badly that I finally grew to trust them… I know this is counter-productive to healthy relationships, but it enables me to return to therapy despite the emotional toll it takes. I focus on the positives (one of the few times I am able to tenaciously hold onto something positive despite all the negatives; it’s usually quite the opposite to when I focus on the negative despite mountains of positives). I convince myself that all the struggle and pain is worth it. Yes, my emotional experiencing seems very much out-of-proportion to the relationship, however if I go with the theory that I generally experience emotions either out-of-proportion to the situation or not at all, then it makes sense. Considering the amount of effort it takes to open up and trust a therapist, it makes sense that there would be a tidal wave of emotion surrounding the relationship… So yeah, I hate it. Yet I continue to subject myself to it time and again…


Tears have snuck out of my eyes more times than I’d like to admit today… It sucks. Also because I hate crying. I mean really, truly, emphatically HATE it. It’s messy and uncomfortable and slimy… I get the benefits, but I still hate it. And I hate admitting to crying…


I’m told it gets better. The professional me is trying desperately to convince me of this. I’m told there’s hope… The emotional me is saying a big “fuck you” to the professional side right now. The teenager is throwing a hissy fit in her own sulking and brooding way. She’s reminding the rest of me about all the times it’s gotten worse. She’s throwing out all the negatives and the hopelessness because that’s what she does the best. I can’t have lied to TL though, so she’s just going to have to deal… One day the teenager will admit some of the tears are her’s also…

Oh, and just so I can keep track of it somewhere: distraction need is set to super-high today. I was playing on the computer, listening to music, watching tv, and messing around on the phone all at the same time earlier. At the moment, I’ve got music pumping into my ear, typing here, on a forum, and playing on the phone… need to find some way to ride this wave of emotions without a self-destruct creeping in.

Depression colors everything

I woke this morning wanting to cry my eyes out. Depression sucks. It’s a gorgeous day. There was a quick shower, and a pretty rainbow, and I want to cry harder.
L reminded me there are only 12 days till my visit, and I was overwhelmed with a heaviness. How is it that such a happy experience should make me so sad? because I know the sadness at leaving will be heavy and wet and incredibly intense. I know, I shouldn’t focus on the ending before it even begins. That’s the fun part of depression though; it doesn’t give a shit…
An acquaintance made the move to initiate friendship, and that made me want to cry also. People shouldn’t be nice to me. They shouldn’t put forth the effort, they’ll just be infected by this black sludge that invisibly oozes from every pore. I admit, I do my best to hide it if you see me out and about, but it’s there. It’s sticky and heavy and traps everything in its path…
I wanted to cry when I read an account of someone’s snakes living well into their 50’s. I wanted to cry because I was both happy that mine may be with me for a much longer time, and sad that the hurt would be huge when they do finally pass… I know, you are thinking “but they’re snakes!? They’re icky and slithery and snakes!?” But they have their personalities and they are not icky at all… and I will miss them when they move out of my life, like I miss every pet I have ever shared my life with…
So yeah, depression is loud and very present this morning despite my best efforts to smile and decide to be happy. It’s coloring everything with those dark storm clouds… I can see the rainbow, but it’s very faint and fading fast, leaving only the gray clouds.


just lost

I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m so lost. I don’t know how to ask for what I need, or even what I need… I thought I asked for more help, but apparently that came out as “it’s ok to go more than a week between sessions…”

Of course, there are no real options for additional help here. I’m limited. I know what I don’t need, but I don’t necessarily know what I do need. There’s this vague idea in my head that more intensive therapy would help, but there’s no way to access it, or any place nearby that I could afford… It’s so frustrating.

I feel totally alone right now (I know I’m not, but I don’t know how to reach out, or what to ask for, or even why I should be asking anything at all). I don’t want to do any of this anymore. I’m so tired. Nothing ever gets better for long. The things that are the most popular suggestions don’t work for me, everything else is nearly impossible to access.

I’ve had flashbacks that don’t go away for the past week… I don’t know anymore how to make them go away. I do the grounding, I do the coping skills off that stupid list, I try to breathe, I try to remind myself it’s just a memory… but nothing works.

I reach out, but apparently I’m reaching out to all the wrong people. none of this is worth it anymore. I’m so tired of struggling and getting nowhere. I’m tired of crashing. I’m just so tired of all of this. But there’s nothing to do. Nothing makes any meaningful changes… I’m just… done. I want it all done.

Minor updates (for consistency sake and my own record-keeping…)

The guy must have had more hours that day due to the holiday because he called around 2:30 to tell me that I was being assigned a therapist that day, and the therapist should be in contact within the week. I’m supposed to call him if that doesn’t happen… I had really hoped the therapist should have called before the holiday, but no luck. Hopefully they remember to call at all.

I got paid yesterday, so I went to an art journal workshop. It was totally worth it and a lot of fun. Sadly though, my check for the month is pretty much gone and I still have things to buy (like food) that likely won’t be happening. There are so many bills coming in, and so many people we owe money to, anything we get is gone in minutes. It really sucks.

I was supposed to go to two different cookout today, but the depression kicked my ass so I stayed home. I tried to do art, but I lost stream fast… I want to just listen to music and sleep. Yeah, that sounds nice (only had about 2 hours of sleep last night again). At least I didn’t burst into tears at the store today. That’s improvement (though if someone had talked to me at all, I probably would have)…

Anyway, that’s all… nothing to say, no energy. Don’t care right now.

I don’t want it

For the first time in forever, I don’t want therapy to happen tomorrow.  I don’t want to say goodbye.  This isn’t the right time.  I can’t get the feeling that she is dying out of my chest.  I know the feeling is not her, it’s K, but right now it feels like her.  And I hate it.  I spent the better part of today in bed; the better part of the last few weeks triggered and startling at everything.  I don’t want to go to sleep because that means tomorrow is closer.  I want to slow down time.  I want to stop it in that moment before she goes away.  So many I have trusted have left my life.  It sucks.  And it’s terrifying.

I don’t have plans for tomorrow after session’s up, but I may go to the beach if I get paid by then.  I have plans for Wednesday evening because I know it will be difficult knowing the time she leaves the office for good.  I have plans for Thursday & Friday because I know I will need the support.  I wish the MeetUp group that had a meetup on Sunday wasn’t holding it at a nude/clothing optional beach.  Maybe if I wasn’t so triggered I could go, but right now it wouldn’t be a good idea even though all the guys in the group are safe… I would need to carpool, and that would mean no escape when I get triggered, no safe place to hide and ground and escape from it all.

I really hope the new clinician calls soon…


I know De and I met today, and we talked about a lot of stuff, but I’ve already lost the specifics.  I had gone in feeling spent, and the session just intensified the feeling.  I remember playing with playdoh and what I made, but I don’t really remember the content.  I know when we talked about remembering things, I made an elephant without realizing it.  When we switched the topic to moods, I ended up with a creature face that matched the mood we happened to be talking about at the moment… I noticed all these things because I was not really making them on purpose, just ended up with them as we were talking.  I made sure to take mental note of the connections, but I am not totally sure she noticed them.

I returned home spent and tired.  I took a 2 hour nap, then had a heavy conversation with mom.  I remain spent all day.  I just feel drained and out of “fight”.  There’s only so long I can go defending myself and standing up for myself before I lose steam.  Today took everything out of me.  I don’t even want these stupid beers I opened and inherited (L did not like hers, so now I have 2)…

RIP Twiggy…

Yesterday she took a turn for the worse.  It was decided that she’s just suffering needlessly, and we can’t do anything to make her better at this point. Mom took her this morning… this was the first time in my life I chose not to go. The humane society doesn’t let you be with your pet when they euthanize them, so what would the point have been other than torturing myself? I cuddled her before she left, and told her I loved her… and I cried.

She was the third pet to go this week. Every 2 days… :(…


Translations from the dark side

Why is it that something genuinely supportive and helpful comes off as condescending and invalidating? What lens do I put on that turns all the nice into hate? I know my stress is skyrocketing, and that the depression is creeping back in. I guess that’s the lens right there: depression. I had reached out to someone in hopes of finding support, but all I read from their response was how wrong I was doing things, how deliberately miserable I am, and how inadequate I am. In actuality, their response was uplifting, supportive, positive, and understanding.  My head instantly turned that positive into disparaging. Even as I recognize this, my head is battling itself. There’s the side that is berating me for being inadequate and stupid.  Then there’s the side of me that is taking the response at face value and trying to convince that other side that it’s reading into things. Depression will do that to you. Self – doubt and self – loathing become a way of life.
So my eyes will read “you’ve had so much success until now, you need to focus on that” and my brain will understand “you worthless piece of shit, you can’t even get recovery right. I told you you’d never amount to anything more that a useless waste of space. People tell you all the time to focus on the positive, but all you do is choose to be miserable. You’re a horrid person. You deserve everything you get and then some” (note here that a simple line of text has been translated into a tirade of the self…).

I’m writing this and the voice in my head is reminding me how stupid I have become. This is all stuff I should already know. It’s not supposed to be such a revelation… when I try to change the voice, it gets louder, then more sly when the loud doesn’t work.  It rationalizes the negative self-talk and starts whispering little doubts “you have been really off lately,” “you’re such a flake , the driving is getting bad,” “pretty soon you’ll be completely worthless in everything”… it makes the negative sound like logical conclusions. It plants seeds of doubt “everyone can see you’re crazy. It’s written all over you.  Why do you think you can’t get a job?” “Even if you did land one, they’d notice the crazy and find a reason to fire you if you don’t end up walking out first because you can’t take it”

We went to a volunteer meeting tonight at the nature center. We got hugs from people we hadn’t seen in a while, and all I could think was that they were pity hugs. Like they knew I was crazy and wanted to pat me on the head for making it out anyway but figured a hug would be less condescending… I know they are all about the hugs anyway, but my head screamed at me that they knew and just felt sorry for me.

Mental illness, self-doubt, and self loathing have a way of turning even the most positive interactions into something terrible. I wonder how much of my therapy is viewed this way.  I know the obvious ones, but what about the things that don’t necessarily hit my awareness? What about everyday encounters? What if everyone is really a wonderful person and it’s all just me that views them as hating me? I know I really dislike spending time with G. L pointed it out that my disdain for him was very evident earlier today.  I tried to be nicer when we got back home, but I have a lot of work to do on that front. He may be a perfectly wonderful person these days (ok, that’s an exaggeration. He may be at least tolerable), but I only see him through these angry glasses. Everything he says and does I interpret to be mean and hateful so I respond in kind. Then I feel bad for being an asshole. The cycle begins again. I’m once again battling the translation of simple words. I’m twisting what I’m saying to prove to myself how worthless and horrid I am. I just don’t know how to stop it.  There’s only so much arguing one can do with oneself before a splitting headache ensues. I think it’s once again time for sleep.